


Vulnerable

by khazadspoon



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Aftercare, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Violence, Post-Series, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, james is broken and thomas helps him heal, thomas is also a little broken but they're both gonna be ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khazadspoon/pseuds/khazadspoon
Summary: James needed to feel the sharp sting of his hand, the bite of his teeth, the grip of ropes at his hands and feet.And Thomas would do anything, anything, to give James peace. Even if that peace was brought through pain.-- Post series, Thomas takes care of James after a rough night. Aftercare and comfort because I love these two too much --





	Vulnerable

His breathing was finally slowing; chaotic pants, half moans and shuddering exhales became slow, deep, even breaths. His chest moved up and down, up and down, up and down, the flow of air from his mouth tickling the hair under Thomas’ arm.

They had been rougher than usual that night. James had begged, pleaded for Thomas to mark him, grip him tight and bruise him. He had wanted the pseudo punishment, had needed it so intensely that Thomas was incapable of saying no. It didn’t even occur to him to say no. James’ life in the past ten years had been cruel and unforgiving. And though it was part of Thomas’ nature to forgive, to absolve, he had learned that forgiveness was harder to give after his own ten years of torment.

Not that he had  _not_  forgiven James; there was little to forgive, little to cast aside in order to rekindle his love for the man who had unknowingly kept him alive for a decade. But James needed to feel the sharp sting of his hand, the bite of his teeth, the grip of ropes at his hands and feet.

And Thomas would do anything,  _anything_ , to give James peace. Even if that peace was brought through pain.

“Thomas,” James slurred, his voice low and gravelly from harsh useage. He had cried out, losing the urge to bite his lip as he had so many times back when- back in their  _old_  lives. “Thomas,” he said again, his body curling into the space at Thomas’ side.

He stroked his fingers through the short bristles of James’ hair. “I’m here, love, I’m here.”

James hummed and shifted closer. He nuzzled at Thomas’ underarm and made a soft sound, his fingers curled and uncurled, fingers reaching for Thomas’ skin almost unconsciously. “Love you,” he rasped.

He shivered, his body still reacting to Thomas’ touch as Thomas cleaned him. A cool rag, damp but clean, to wipe the sweat and oil and come from his skin. A low and rasping moan came from deep in James’ chest when he wiped the length of his cock. It twitched in his palm. Thomas kissed his hip, cleaning the space between James’ thighs and marveling at the strength in his lover’s body even as he marveled at its vulnerability.

And James  _was_  vulnerable; he was gentle and open and  _so fragile_ like this. His mind drifted after sex, after sex like  _that_. He fell into a space that left him weak and needing. James had told him once, of times when he had been out of his own mind and of men who would take advantage of that. Thomas had been horrified, and he had sworn then to protect James, to give him what he needed and to protect him when he was satisfied. He had promised to keep James safe and never lay a finger on him that was unwanted. James had given himself over fully and willingly to Thomas after that.

He dropped a kiss to James’ shoulder and settled at his side. They lay for a few moments as James dozed, the sweat long cooled from their skin. Savannah was hot still, even late in September, and it wasn’t long before the heat became uncomfortable.

When Thomas sat up, moving to fetch the water jug, James whined. He sat up quickly, grasping at Thomas’ wrist. “ _No_ , no don’t-”

“Hush,” Thomas urged him, sitting back and kissing his forehead, “it’s alright love, you need water. Will you let me get the water?” When James didn’t answer, his eyes still glassy but so wide and so pained at the idea of Thomas leaving, he continued. “It’s just across the room. I’ll be right here.”

James let go, his shoulders relaxing as Thomas stroked his cheek. “Good boy. I’ll be right back.”

He moved quickly, his knees shaking as his body adjusted to being used to thoroughly and then moving upright again, and poured a mug of cool water. Age had caught up to him early, it seemed, was catching up to them both.

“Here,” he said, “drink.” He tipped the cup against James’ lips, let him drink until he had his fill, and set the mug down. Thomas lay back against the headboard and gathered James into his arms. “There, you can rest now. I’m here.”

James moaned softly, curving himself around Thomas’ chest and hip, his arms wrapped around Thomas’ torso. In a small, delicate voice, James whispered - “say it again.”

Thomas stroked his hair, dropped a kiss to the bristles, and did as he was asked. “You can rest. I’m here now, no one can hurt you. I’ll always be here.”

After nights like this, when James’ past made him doubt, when the sea called and ghosts raged in his head, he begged for Thomas to make him feel. He begged for Thomas to bring him back to the present, to remind him that there was something  _good_  left. He had said, after a while, that Thomas was the only living man he could trust. It had hurt to hear him say it. That there were people who would betray a man so broken and  _in need_  made something dark in Thomas ache for justice and revenge and blood. But he pushed it aside. James was all that mattered. 

“I’m here,” he repeated, “no one can hurt you. You can trust me. Sleep, love.”

James breathed slowly, deeply, his head tucked into Thomas’ neck, and drifted to sleep.

Thomas lay silently for a while. He listened to the soft breaths coming from his lover and gently lifted his hand to check his wrist for any marks, and bruising they had not agreed upon. He kissed the slowly thudding pulse and had to close his eyes against the onslaught of emotion.

So long, he thought, so long without James, without this… It was as though part of him had been missing all those years. And now? Now he had James at his side again, he had the other half of his soul. No one would touch his James again. He wouldn’t allow it. 


End file.
